


SEREIN 01

by tostitos



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, News Media, Pre-Slash, Prequel, Villains, classic tostitos, is this even anything other than 6k of nothing, what if they dont actually have any chemistry omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 23:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17610710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tostitos/pseuds/tostitos
Summary: Hyungwon settles Jooheon with a blank stare and finally picks up his sandwich to finish eating. “I met the citysuperheroand you’re acting like it’s no big deal.”“Technically you didn’t meet him. You dropped your phone, he picked it up, and then he went on his way,” Jooheon snorts. “It’s cool he helped you, but it’s...not a big deal. I bet he does stuff like that all the time for people.”





	SEREIN 01

**Author's Note:**

> this is a prequel to a fic i want to write expanding more on this universe. tell me what you think cuz if no ones into it i will give up lol im that kinda person. also feel free to guess who the villain is 
> 
> a very big stretch for the public speaking square for khw bingo

**VOLUME 00**

Blue and red flashing lights. A black sky. No stars tonight. (Never any stars.) The smell of booze. The stench of the city. Laughter stolen right out of warm chests. Crackling. The static of a communicative radio.

“We’re going live in five, four, three, two...”

Another red light. Tiny. The ticklish caress of a light breeze on the outer shell of their ears. A small crowd refusing to break on the other side of the street. Their mumblings just hushed enough to not be a nuisance. One deep breath. Two.

“We’re outside the Lucky Seven Bar now where a man stormed through the premises and tried to attack one of the bartenders just an hour ago. After one of the patrons attempted to step and stop the assault, the attacker, yet to be identified, fled the scene with, allegedly, a promise to return later. Police are currently working with staff and patrons in the hopes of tracking down the mysterious attacker to prevent a second assault.”

 

**VOLUME 01**

“Hyungwon.”

The coffee filled much too high in an overpriced, cherry blossom Starbucks tumbler almost sloshes over the side of its open mouth when the man holding it jerks in surprise at the call and turns to face the one standing in the doorway.

“We’ve got a story about a fire in Squirrel Hill. Need you on the floor now; they’re gonna cut the sports recap in,” the video editor looks down at his watch, “now.”

Setting down his tumbler on the counter, the coffee actually spilling over and onto his hand that he pulls back with a hiss, WMBB-11 news anchor, Hyungwon Chae, stumbles over his fee on the way out of the break room that’s hardly any bigger than the neighboring work rooms. He wipes his hand on the outside of his black slacks and frowns at the reddening skin of his palm as he all but runs back to the newsroom. He should have known better than to expect that he would be able to catch a quick break and get a refill of coffee, even in between the quick overview of the news at nine and the scheduled full broadcast at eleven. Especially on a Friday night.

But it had mostly been a quiet day, comparatively, and he didn’t get much sleep the night before, kept up by an overnight highway bus that drove off the road (thankfully with minimal casualties) and required them to stay a little longer to follow updates even after the end of the eleventh-hour broadcast.

Then again, that’s what he gets for accepting the position to late night anchor.

( _Then again_ , he’d rather be kept up at night, unable to rest, over what he was doing before.)

Jiyeon slips two sheets of paper over to his side of their desk as he slides behind it and he feels like he only has a second to scan over them before the on-air light behind the cameras lights up a glaring white and they’re being cued to start.

“We’ve received work that a fire has broken out on X street in Squirrel Hill. Firefighters are at the scene after receiving calls from homeowners in the neighborhood who said they heard a loud bang no more than thirty minutes before the fire broke and began to spread throughout the home,” Jiyeon recites, her eyes deftly moving from the teleprompter to the camera.

“Firefighters are currently battling the fire. There is some worry that tonight’s strong wings will make it difficult to put out the fire or perhaps cause it to spread to the connected townhouses. Those houses have been evacuated and the family woken up by this terrifying ordeal is safe,” Hyungwon follows after her, keeping himself from visibly expressing his drowsiness by focusing on the cadence of his own voice.

By how frantic the video editor sounded, Hyungwon expected a baby to be trapped on the third floor, their cries echoing through the night as their parents hold one another in hysterics before the family dog rushes into the burning building to become the hero of the night. But everyone is safe and it looks like most of the risk of danger is to the buildings alone.

Hyungwon sympathizes with the pain of property damage but his coffee is currently cooling in the tiny break room and he doesn’t understand why they couldn’t have given Jiyeon a single close-up frame to deliver the news alone.

“We’re gonna roll into a few more top stories before going back to the sports review,” whispers one of the producers from near the cameras and a huge sigh gets caught in the center of Hyungwon’s throat.

He should have expected that.

Changing the fold of his hands on the top of the desk, Hyungwon wets his lips and waits for the signal that they’ve stopped showing footage off the house fire to the viewers and will return to video of the studio.

“In a quick update, the woman who was caught on camera stealing nearly five thousand dollars worth of jewelry from K’s Jewelers on Tuesday was apprehended by police this afternoon,” he reads.

Jiyeon covers another story on the repairs being done to the highway tunnel and reminds viewers of the upcoming news at eleven before the on-air light is turned off and Hyungwon immediately slumps over on his elbows.

Groaning, he rests his head on his hands. “It’s past my bedtime.”

Jiyeon huffs out a sound Hyungwon thinks is supposed to be a laugh. “It’s hardly ten o’clock.”

“My bedtime is whenever I want to go to sleep.”

Collecting her notes, Jiyeon shakes her head. “Hang in there, bud. You’re stuck here for another few hours.”

Hyungwon groans again. He feels Jiyeon walk behind him, leaving, and it’s not until she’s halfway across the newsroom that Hyungwon lifts his head.

“ _Bud?_ “ he murmurs to himself, looking over at her as his brows furrow.

They’re not _distant_ but as people who see each other every day, Hyungwon surely wouldn’t consider them as anything more than simply coworkers who can hold conversations that aren’t awkward. In the seven months since Hyungwon transferred to become an anchor, she’s never called him anything other than his name.

Pushing himself up out of his slouch, Hyungwon resolves that moping around isn’t going to wake him up or heat up his coffee and bring it to him. He slips his hand past the collar of his shirt and rubs the back of his neck. “Just a few more hours.”

 

The microwave pings noisily as the timer hits zero and Hyungwon, draped over the edge of the counter like a used dishrag, lifts a hand to jab a finger at the button that releases the door to swing open. Steam curls out of the microwave as he extracts the plastic Teen Titans place with too many melted craters, a pepperoni hot pocket sitting in the middle with a fat glob of fake cheese spilling from within its crust. He’d eat something less...radioactive, but the soles of his feet hurt and he’ll take the side effects of shitty dining over standing any longer to do meal prep and cook.

Chancing first degree burns picking at the cheese to eat before it can cool and stiffen, Hyungwon shuffles back into the living room with his bare feet sticking to the tile and his sweatpants getting caught under his heels.

The end of The Price is Right is on the television. Not his usual choice of program but it made for good entertainment while he was too lazy to pick up his laptop for netflix. Now, he goes to get the computer from where he left it on the plush chair by the window the day before, and returns to the couch. He tosses the laptop on a cushion and takes a seat next to it, pulling his legs to cross them like a pretzel.

Balancing his plate in his lap, he picks up the television remote to turn the TV of when the opening of the weekend twelve-noon news plays. It’s not the station he works for currently, but he interned there for two years in university.

Sometimes he wishes he could be one of those people who don’t care about the news — mostly for his state of mind when the darkness of the world piles on too much. He spends most of his time surrounded by what’s going on both locally and nationally in the newsroom and it gets hard — but every time, he finds himself sucked in.

Picking up his brunch by the paper and foil sleeve, he shoots a prayer up to god and takes a bite of the still steaming hot ‘calzone’. As expected, searing white pain rips across his tongue as hot cheese hits it and he huffs around the food in his mouth like a dog in an attempt to cool it.

The reporter on screen starts with positive stories, some of them Hyungwon covered himself during the week plus a new one about the zoo announcing a twenty-four hour cam of the red pandas. By the time she gets to the more unfortunate stories, doing a recap of the fire Hyungwon covered last night with a few more details about the now confirmed cause of the fire, Hyungwon can eat without feeling like he’s inhaling molten lava.

A pepperoni falls out of the calzone and falls onto Starfire’s face. Lifting up the plate, he tries to suck it into his mouth. Just then, he hears the lock on the front door click.

His mouth is still squished against the plate when the door is pushed open and in walks his roommate, Hoseok.

His brows come together as Hoseok kicks of his shoes. He drops his plate in his lap. “What are you doing home,” he asks. “Thought you’d be at the gym.”

“Forgot my—“

“In breaking news, it has just been revealed that professors from several universities in the area have been taken hostage.”

Sitting up, Hyungwon loses all interest in his roommate as he gives his attention to the news. In the corner of the screen is an image of a darkened room, who must be the three professors sitting with their hands bound, eyes covered, and mouths taped over.

“A message was sent to our studios directly with this image o the professors in captivity. There has yet been no demands or other communication aside from a single sentence along with the image that reads: ‘HYPOTHESIS: Sacrifices are excusable, and even necessary, for the forward progress of a given goal,’ signed by the infamous E.

“So far, there has been no sightings of Double Zero. Police are currently trying to trace the location in which the professors are being held. Stay with us as we follows this story.”

“E is up to something again?” Hoseok sighs from over Hyungwon’s shoulder and the news announcer flinches at the sudden proximity, not knowing when Hoseok moved. “I hope they’re found and brought back safe.”

Hyungwon exhales a quiet, ‘yeah’.

It was two years ago that brought a change to the city in the form of a serial criminal by the name of E. Authorities have struggled to capture the man responsible for so much destruction of property and endangerment of lives, on account of his hidden identity and his rather...inhuman qualities. Hyungwon doesn’t quite understand — no one does — how anyone could be that strong, could seemingly know everything about his opponents. He doesn’t think anyone can catch E.

Not anyone but Double Zero, the other man who wasn’t human. The one who isn’t a criminal.

They seemingly came out of nowhere and now the city lives with two opposing aliens as if they’re living in a comic book.

Hyungwon stares at the television screen still showing the image of the hostage professors. E’s words float through his mind, as do questions about what he means.

It’s gonna be long hours at work this week.

 

**VOLUME 00**

The reporter turns to face the man at his side, calm, the both of them. Behind them, inside the walls of the tiny bar, a table and chairs are upturned, glass bottles have been shattered, and there’s a splattering of blood drying on the bar counter. It isn’t much, just a few drops smeared in the tussle apparently, but the editors in the newsroom will find a way to boost up their impact in the short delay before the live footage hits the television screens of the people.

“Now, we have another man who was working the bar tonight with us for a quick interview about the earlier events.”

There’s a little feedback into the mic when it’s directed over at the bartender. The lights from the lingering police cars are flashing into their eyes. One of the officers walks behind them into the shot, trying to go inside the bar again. The reporter wonders why they chose to stand in this particular spot. Was it his idea? Or his usual partner behind the camera? There’s exhaustion clinging to the eyes of them both; it’s been a long day of rushing from this corner of the city to that, from the newsroom to the field.

“I’m sure weren’t expecting something like this to happen tonight.”

A joke. A little something to lighten the mood. The bartender doesn’t laugh, but the corners of his lips turn up a fraction.

A reflection in the camera. Three men, not two. Shouting. A small crowd refusing to break on the other side of the street. Blue and red flashing lights.

Fireworks.

“Oh my god. Hyungw—“

(But maybe a gun shot.) One deep breath. Two.

Pain he doesn’t remember. And blood that he does.

 

**VOLUME 01**

Hyungwon has never cared much about Mount Washington — not to mention the inclines freak him out — but for some reason he finds himself at the overlook a little too late to have caught the sunrise and a little too early to be at the damn outlook. To his surprise, there aren’t as many people here as he thought there’d be. He assumed tourists would foam at the mouth for a view of the cityscape under the warmth of the sun rising, but there’s maybe only four other people beside himself — a couple down the railing Hyungwon is leaning against and a man in shades and a turtleneck pulled up over his mouth on the other side.

He won’t complain about the lack of a crowd. Maybe he can discover a newfound appreciation for Mount Washington in the early morning silence.

Taking out his phone, Hyungwon takes a few pictures of the scenery. It’d be a waste not to. The Alleghany isn’t the most stunning of rivers, but there’s something about the rustic, industrial look of it below the bridges and the outline of the city.

After a couple shots and an upload to instagram, Hyungwon grips the railing with his free hand and leans against it. “You really woke up early to do this,” he mumbles to himself.

A scream makes him look over his shoulder to see the couple to his left being harassed by pigeons. The guy swats at the birds and they scatter, flapping their wings haphazardly toward Hyungwon who flinches back. His arm slams into the railing and, in all the motion, his grip on his phone loosens, his hand still over the other side of the railing.

He gasps, too horrified for words, as he watches his phone freefall in slow motion.

Or rather, it’s like time has stopped.

Hyungwon blinks. “What?” he exhales shakily, heart beating frantically with more adrenaline anyone should be having this early in the morning.

His phone hovers suspended in air, no longer falling, like it’s gotten caught in an invisible web. He leans over the railing until the bar begins to cut into his stomach, as if getting closer to his phone will break the hallucination this must be.

A hand on the middle of his back almost sends him over the railing too.

“I wouldn’t do that. You can get hurt,” says a mild voice from behind him, the speaker getting caught in a yawn at the end of his words.

The strange hold on Hyungwon’s phone lifts, but instead of falling to its death, it begins to rise toward him as if pulled up by an invisibly string. He forgets to glance back at the stranger as he reaches out to take his phone, and by the time it’s safely in his hands again, there’s no one but him and the still shaken couple on the outlook.

Cradling his phone to his chest, he tries to pull up a metal image of the other man who was there but hardly remembers any defining features.

But there’s only one person it could be.

 

“So, you’re telling me you dropped your phone at Grandview and Double Zero used his powers to save it.”

The crunch of a raw carrot stick punctuates the end of a cameraman’s words. The newsroom is in a rush outside the break room they’ve taken solace in. Hyungwon’s lunch consists of a spicy italian sandwich that he got from Subway the night beore, the bread soft and barely tolerable after making the mistake of asking for mayo and honey mustard, and a can of the devil’s energy drink, mountain dew.

Hyungwon pokes a finger at his sandwich, hungry but without much of an appetite. “Well, it surely wasn’t E.”

“You never know. Maybe E has a soft spot for people who drop their phones.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Hyungwon swipes a finger through a bit of honey mustard. “You don’t believe me, do you?” he asks, voice monotone.

Jooheon shrugs and picks a celery stick out of his vegetable cup. “Why wouldn’t I believe you? It’s not like it was an interesting story. I’d question you more if you were lying about how a superhero saved your Galaxy S6.”

“It’s a Galaxy _Note_.”

“That’s nice.” Jooheon bites into the celery.

Hyungwon settles Jooheon with a blank stare and finally picks up his sandwich to finish eating. “I met the city _superhero_ and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.”

“Technically you didn’t meet him. You dropped your phone, he picked it up, and then he went on his way,” Jooheon snorts. “It’s cool he helped you, but it’s...not a big deal. I bet he does stuff like that all the time for people.”

Hyungwon grumbles as he bites into his sandwich, his own quickly becoming a grimace as moist bread hits his tongue.

He doesn’t think he’s special, nor did he want Jooheon to think so. But, at the same time, he doubts Double Zero is really helping clumsy people all the time. Whenever he’s caught in public, he tries to keep a low-profile. He’s never rude, but he definitely doesn’t stop to entertain people that often.

That line of thought makes Hyungwon pause. Double Zero didn’t really stop to entertain him either. Not any more than necessary to make sure Hyungwon wasn’t going to roll over the rail after his phone.

Frowning to himself again, Hyungwon shrugs. It was an interesting occurrence regardless. He just wishes he wasn’t so shell-shocked when it happened. He didn’t even get to give Double Zero his thanks. Double Zero might have otherworldly powers and stop E from causing havoc in the city, but Hyungwon never thought everyone was entitled to his help. For as hidden as Double Zero tries to stay, Hyungwon assumes he just wants to blend in as an ordinary guy. Unlike E who seems set on pushing as many powerless humans around as he can.

“Gonna make coffee. You want some.” Jooheon asks, sweeping the trash from his finished veggie cup and his own sandwich (fortunately from him, not from Subway) into his hands to toss on his way to the coffee machine.

Hyungwon lifts his can of mountain dew. “No, I’m okay.

Jooheon makes a face. “Coffee for two. Got it.”

Hyungwon huffs out a laugh and peels a tomato slice out of his sandwich. The slice makes a wet slap when it hits the foil wrapping paper.

Jooheon pulls out their cups from the cabinet and sets them on the counter. The coffee in the pot is usually either lukewarm or stale, and there’s hardly ever any time to make a fresh pot, but there’s always a plentiful stock of assorted instant coffee powders and tea bags in a basket by the sink. Jooheon flicks through the selection.

“I need to research today’s earlier stories and see if there’s been any updates,” Hyungwon sighs before shoving the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth.

Jooheon pulls out two coffee packets. “Jackson and I are going to check out the preparations for tomorrow’s marathon. I’m glad you were able to move up to anchor, but I do miss running around with you all over the city,” he says as he tears open the sleeves and pours the instant coffee into each other their cups.

Hyungwon hums under his breath, his chest tightening. He misses his partner as well, but just the thought of doing a live report outside makes his stomach twist and a chill creep into his bones.

He loved live reporting, but he can’t do it anymore.

Swallowing the discomfort in his throat, Hyungwon taps his fingers on his Mountain Dew can. “Have they made you go back to crime reporting?”

Jooheon shakes his head and takes the cups over to the hot water dispenser. “But I can tell they’re confused about why it makes me uncomfortable still when I wasn’t hurt that night. Maybe they’re even getting annoyed.”

Hyungwon is thankful he was able to be promoted to anchor but he understands how this is a difficult situation for Jooheon. It’s been months after all.

“But I’m fine,” Jooheon reassures. “It’s not like another station will take me under the conditions that I won’t film a crime scene. Especially because that affects the reporter as well. If they ask, then I’ll start doing crime again. Jackson doesn’t mind either way.”

Hyungwon knows this. News reporting isn’t a profession for conditions and demands. Stations need people who are available for any situation, at any time. Hyungwon may have had his resume on his side to appeal for his position change, but that same upward mobility doesn’t really exist for camerapeople who want to stay behind the camera.

Jooheon was lucky the reporter he was paired up with agreed to sit out on certain stories or else the station wouldn’t have let his go on for so long. Or let it happen at all maybe.

 

**VOLUME 00**

The police officers are shouting. Jooheon is shouting. The police officers are shooting. The lights atop their cars are flashing.

Red.

Hyungwon’s hands are red too all of a sudden.

So is a spot on Hyungwon’s shirt and it spreads like watercolor.

One short breath. Two.

 

**VOLUME 01**

The most unfortunate thing about work as a news anchor is that there’s no time to get anything done and still maintain an adequate sleeping schedule. To work the evening news shift, Hyungwon needs to be at the station by three in the afternoon. But, so he feels like he’s well researched and prepared to deliver the day’s stories, he likes to arrive at least an hour earlier. Then he’s stuck there until midnight if it’s a good day and until close to one in the morning if there’s a sudden late night story. Add in sleep and there’s simply not enough hours in the day for personal errands.

_Tofu, cabbage, coffee, barbecue chips, garlic..._

That’s why he’s at the grocery store at seven-forty in the morning in a hoodie from his alma mater, a pair of joggers, and with his heels ruining the backs of a pair of Hoseok’s sneakers. Sleep still sits heavily and drowsily on his mind and he has every intention of returning to his bed to catch a little more of it before he has to start getting ready for work at eleven.

Thankfully, no one but grandparents and stay at home parents (without their kids) visit the grocer so soon after it opens and he can enjoy silence as he shuffles through the store with his eyes still flattering to half mast every so often.

Hyungwon drops a tub of greek yogurt into his cart, right next to a tiny tub of onion and chives cream cheese for the bagels he’s also put inside. He picks up the shopping list and squints at the scribbled writing as he pushes his cart out of the dairy aisle.

“Got that...got the sliced cheese, Hoseok’s rice milk...” he mumbles to himself, steadily moving forward with his eyes on the paper. He brings the list closer to his face, wondering if one particular scribble is a kind of food or him trying to get the pen to work, and stumbles over his feet as he runs into something solid.

His head snaps up, and rather than a wall or a counter or a falling display that he expects to see, Hyungwon’s eyes land on a grey Carnegie Mellon sweatshirt.

He follows one of the arms to one of the orange grocery store baskets moderately filled, and then shifts his gaze to the other, a free hand circled around the far right corner of his cart. He flicks his gaze up and his mouth rounds in a surprised curve before it drops in horror.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry. Did I hit you?”

Double Zero’s small mouth stretches into a smile that Hyungwon notices is sweetly rectangular. “You didn’t hit me,” he reassures with a light shake of his head. “But if you kept going forward, you’d eventually hit that display.” He jerks his head back and Hyungwon looks past the hero to see a shelves full of various boxes of cereal right in the path of his cart.

Hyungwon’s ears warm as he looks at the hero again and he rubs at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh...thanks,” he chuckles. “And, uh, thanks for catching my phone the other day.”

Shaking his head, Double Zero takes his hand off the cart and slips it into the front pocket it of his jeans. For a quick moment, Hyungwon wonders how he’s wearing jeans so early in the morning, as if he actually wakes up around this time by choice instead of by necessity, but then he refocuses.

“Just don’t make it a habit, yeah? At this rate I’ll be saving inanimate objects from Hyungwon Chae more than I’m saving, I don’t know, people who need it.”

Hyungwon’s eyes blow wide. “You know my name?” he asks, just a thin exhale away from being breathless. He can’t even feel more embarrassed by the teasing from the other man.

“Maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but I _do_ watch the news,” Double Zero says, one of his eyebrows raised in jest and his smile still wide and boxy.

Hyungwon’s blush flares brighter, spreading into his cheeks, at the ordinary, and obvious, answer. “O-Of course,” he says, like he knew that was how the hero knew his name the whole time. He knows Double Zero sees right through him but the sharp look of amusement in the hero’s eyes feels friendly instead of mean spirited.

For someone who always seemed like he couldn’t be bothered with socializing with others, Double Zero isn’t as restrained as Hyungwon thought he would be. It’s a pleasant surprise.

(Now he can tell Jooheon that they’ve actually met and had a conversation.)

“Please pay attention to your surroundings. I meant what I said about not making this a habit.” Double Zero gives him another light laugh before nodding his farewell and starting to go about his way.

Hyungwon’s lips part and the start of a sentence gets caught in the back of his throat. Double Zero glances over his shoulder at the aborted sound. Hyungwon grips the shopping list tight in his hands. “I swear I’m not usually clumsy!”

Double Zero tilts his head in question and raises his eyebrow again. “Then, prove it.”

He leaves Hyungwon outside of the dairy aisle, right in front of a bunch of boxes of cereal with bright red ears, a slightly pinked face, and damp palms. Hyungwon doesn’t favor cereal, but he wheels up to the shelves and grabs a box of Frosted Flakes to drop into his cart. For memories sake.

He wonders if Double Zero would have told him his own name if he asked.

 

**VOLUME 00**

“...ngwon.”

Clear skies but the stars are masked behind bright lights, their illuminance dimmed. Yellow behind black.

Yellow and black.

There’s police tape stretched long and thin, hooked around trees, pasted across the front door.

Earlier there was a spot of rain just after sunset, a weird mist coming from a cloudless sky and maybe that’s the moisture clinging to Hyungwon’s forehead and gathering at the base of his throat despite it being hours since then.

“Hyungwon...”

The reporter turns to face the call of his name and winces when the quick turn of his head pokes a pain in his neck. Jooheon stares at back at him, his camera already set up.

Jooheon has never liked crime reporting, especially not violent crime, and while his eyes are always focused on the recording, his knees usually shake just the slightest bit. Now, there’s a wet look of anxiousness in his gaze. “Are you okay?”

Yellow and black. The police have long left the scene but blue and red still flash behind his eyelids.

Hyungwon nods, takes one deep breath. Two.

Then three shallow breaths. Four.

He glances down at his hands, where his notes about the crime are written.

There’s still red and a pain he doesn’t even remember.

 

**VOLUME 01**

As much as coffee is such a vital part of Hyungwon’s ability to function, he’s never liked being in coffee shops. For as much as they’re boasted as places to relax or work, he’s always found them to be much too crowded to be comforting. There’s very few hours of the day where there isn’t a constant stream of people. Being a public figure has its perks occasionally, and most of the time people don’t bother him, but there’s still enough who do with questions or complaints or not so discreet phone cameras.

For Hyungwon, coffee is a private affair — made at home exactly the way he likes it — but every once in a while he gets a craving for something different and overpriced, and finds his way into a coffee shop.

As soon as he’s directed to wait for his drink by the counter, he pulls out his phone.

No new messages but a few emails mixed in with the usual spam he never remembers to delete. Not much of the new headlines on the local news sites are anything out of the ordinary, thankfully.

For some reason, his mind jumps to E. The villain isn’t extremely active, isn’t getting into trouble every other week like the ones in the cartoons, but Hyungwon finds himself thinking about the silence from the villain in the weeks after he took those professors hostage.

Not much is known about their release. News stations were sent the initial picture and message from E and after that was radio silence. The police searched a number of locations that turned up empty, people called in lies about how they saw E take the professors, and no one had seen Double Zero around.

The entire city was on edge for a few days before the professors were spotted walking the streets, unbruised but with hollow eyes as if whatever E did or said to them while they were captive was much worse than being beaten. News stations rushed to get answers, but received none from the released academics.

Later that day, people claimed to see Double Zero out and about as well, but ever since the hero’s first appearance, he’s never stopped to answer questions for any of the media.

“Vanilla almond soy latte!”

Hyungwon’s head snaps up and he darkens the screen of his phone as he approaches the counter to grab his drink from the barista. He smiles at the simple ‘have a nice day’ he’s told and replies in kind.

He squeezes through the line of people waiting for their orders and walks up to the small additives station just behind the crowd. Placing the cup down on the tiny square counter, Hyungwon takes a moment to pocket his phone before reaching for his cup again to pluck off the top.

A man sidles up to him and does the same. They both reach for the additives at the same time and Hyungwon lets out a soft noise when instead of reaching for different things, the sides of their hands bump together in front of the cinnamon shaker.

Hyungwon glances over at the man and he jolts in surprise. “Doub—“

Double Zero takes back the hand that bumped into Hyungwon’s and holds a finger to his mouth, motioning for Hyungwon to be quiet. He shakes his head. “For as far as anyone else is concerned, I’m not here.”

Hyungwon blinks, confused. “What do you mean? You’re standing in plain sight.”

Double Zero tilts his head to the side, mouth forming that boxy smile he gave Hyungwon in the grocery store. “Am I?” he says, waving at the cinnamon shaker for Hyungwon to take it first.

“Oh, no, you can go first,” Hyungwon replies.

“I insist.”

Taking the shaker in hand then, Hyungwon sprinkles a bit on top of the foam covering his latte. “What do you mean by that? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Double Zero waits before Hyungwon passes him the cinnamon to speak. “The human mind is susceptible to deception. It benefits me to take advantage of that.”

“So...mind control?” Hyungwon pauses with his hand pressing down on the lid of his cup and looks at the hero with wide eyes.

Shaking his head, Double Zero laughs. “No,” he returns the cinnamon, “this is simply an illusion. Everyone is seeing me as an ordinary man, not as...you know. Although I wouldn’t say I’m not incapable of controlling minds.”

Hyungwon stares at the other man. He knew he was inhuman, knew he had unimaginable powers, but Hyungwon didn’t think he was capable of so much past the telekinesis he’s seen before.

“Are you sitting here?”

Struck quiet with the gravity of Double Zero’s power, Hyungwon hardly notices himself shake his head. Nodding at the door, Double Zero curves a hand around Hyungwon’s shoulder and steers him toward the door.

The reporter follows the movement and exits the coffee shop with Double Zero on his heels. As soon as they’re out on the street, Hyungwon turns to look at him again.

“But that doesn’t make any sense. I know you’re you.”

“Because I wanted you to know I’m me.”

Hyungwon blinks. He feels a little warm under the buttoned up collar of his shirt, a blush beginning to color his ears. What does that _mean_? Most importantly... “Who are you?”

Double Zero chuckles out a laugh that makes Hyungwon flutter inside. “You can call me Kihyun.”

 

**VOLUME 02**

“Don’t you think you’re taking this whole thing too far, E? I don’t know how you think this’ll end, but it won’t be worth it.”

A pounding heart. The sound of its furious beating resounding loud in his ears. There are cameras around and he hates it. He hates knowing people are watching when they shouldn’t be. This is too personal, more than the interesting action movie everyone seems to think it is. Always has been.

Dark eyes. A darker smile.

“Well, I could say the same to you, Zero. Are you not tired of playing the hero for the people who did this to you?”

“He’s innocent.

“He is.” A nod. Then, the wicked smile drops into a sharp frown. “But he makes you happy. And I don’t understand how you can even fathom such an emotion.”


End file.
